


it's (maybe) a date

by worrylesswritemore



Category: Legally Blonde - Hach/O'Keefe/Benjamin
Genre: F/M, also i am /obsessed/ with the idea of elle pampering emmett, and he's stubborn as hell about it, and homeboy deserves it, anyways i actually have nothing to tag so sorry for the mindless rant, because he has a chip on his shoulder amiright, emmett has a crush, very nice trope reversal that I approve of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:23:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrylesswritemore/pseuds/worrylesswritemore
Summary: “It’s not a date.” Emmett firmly tells the crushed redbull can in his waste basket as he changes his shirt for the fifteenth time.:: - ::In betwixt getting ready for a definitely-not-date, Emmett ponders his relationship(?) with a certain blonde.





	it's (maybe) a date

**Author's Note:**

> For @lessracquetball.

“It’s  _ not  _ a date.” Emmett firmly tells the crushed redbull can in his waste basket as he changes his shirt for the fifteenth time. 

He checks himself in the cracked, dusty mirror of his tiny studio apartment, briefly considering his form. This one is… _ less wrinkly _ than the other one, at least.

Emmett lets out a noise of frustration, resolutely deciding to stop worrying over  _ clothes  _ of all things.

...And then he promptly starts worrying about the tangled, scruffy mess of his hair.

He scrubs his hand through the mess, idly wondering if that counts as brushing the damned thing.

_ “You know, scruffy is the new sexy,”  _ Elle had told him once— _ offhandedly _ ,  _ jokingly _ , with a pretty smile that somehow made a pretty girl like her look even more  _ pretty _ .

And Emmett could barely function the rest of that study session, stumbling over the questions and mumbling his words like a blustering first-year.

No, not just a blustering first-year. More like  _ a blushing schoolgirl. _

Jesus, what is Miss Woods turning him into?

Shaking himself from the memory, he looks at the clock, the time taunting him as it simultaneously moves  _ too fast _ and  _ too slow _ for his liking.

On one hand, he just wants to go and get it over with.

On the other, he also wants to hide in his room and bury his nose in a law book.

And it’s so  _ stupid _ , to act like this. It’s not like they haven’t hung out before. Hell, he’s practically  _ lived  _ in her room for the past few months.

...For  _ purely  _ academic purposes.  _ Of course.  _

( _ Unfortunately _ , his brain supplies before he promptly shuts  _ that  _ thought down before it leads to... _ other _ thoughts).

So, it isn’t like he has cause to be nervous—not around  _ Elle _ , the only person here who’s  _ never  _ made Emmett feel  _ less _ .

But perhaps that in of itself is causation for nervousness. After all, she’s always so  _ impressed  _ by him, so  _ comforted  _ by him...

He doesn’t know what he’d do if he ever  _ disappointed  _ her.

“She’s in love with the pretty boy,” Emmett tightly reminds the redbull can, even though it’s true that she hasn’t even spoken his name in the last  _ month  _ except out of dispassionate annoyance.

All she can talk about is the internship, her ambitions as bright as her bubblegum smile. 

And  _ Warner  _ may be threatened by that, but Emmett himself finds it utterly  _ intoxicating _ .

“It’s not a date.” Emmett repeats, the words sour on his tongue.

It’s just a  _ gift _ . A  _ reeducation _ is what Elle likes to playfully call it.

_ “You eat like this?” Elle had demanded, bewildered, “Every single day?” _

_ Emmett had shrugged, his mouth full of greasy burger, “Sometimes I get a salad.” _

_ Elle leveled him a look of disbelief. _

_ “That was a lie,” Emmett admitted easily, “I just wanted to get that frown off your face.” _

_ “I’m frowning because you’ll be dead by the time you’re forty.” Elle told him, and even though she was nagging him now, she kept stealing fries off of his plate, “Grease isn’t apart of the main food group, Emmett.” _

_ “But it is part of my price range,” Emmett said, gesturing to the paper bag, “This is only five bucks.” _

_ Elle furrowed her brow, “You never learned to cook?” _

_ “Not well.” He replied, causing her to laugh. _

_ And it would always amaze him—that someone like him could make someone like her laugh like that. _

_ “You should try this cute place on Boulevard,” Elle told him, “It has steak that, like, melts in your mouth.” _

_ He snorted, “That probably costs enough to drain my bank account.” _

_ Elle shrugged, “Let me treat you then.” She gasps, “We can make an evening of it!” _

_ Emmett tried to make it not seem like his mouth had gone completely dry, “Really?” _

_ “We deserve a night out,” Elle said, dramatic as ever, “I’m positively wilting in the fumes of stress and dry shampoo.” _

_ And Emmett had agreed because he had yet to learn a way to say no to Miss Woods Comma Elle. _

Emmett feels a pitter-patter deep in his chest, reminding him of a story that his mother would tell him about the day that she met his father.

He tries to smooth down the wrinkles of his shirt and fixes his hair. He’s about to leave when his phone rings.

And as soon as he picks it up, she starts talking, and Emmett’s stomach drops.

“—And so now my hot pink sheets are a gross green color,” She says, the sickness evident in her pitiful voice, “Which throws off the whole color scheme of my room.”

Emmett nods, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice, “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“You really don’t mind a raincheck?” Elle asks for the millionth time.

“I didn’t have anything to wear anyway.” Emmett points out.

She snorts, “That’s never stopped you before.”

Emmett gasps in mock-horror, “That’s not very  _ positive  _ of you to say, Miss Woods.”

She groans, “Give me a break.”

“Never.” Emmett promises, grinning.

Her laugh turns into a wet, disgusting cough.

“Get some sleep.” Emmett instructs her gently, “Let your dreams be of pastels and lip balms.”

She sighs dreamily, “Okay,” And Emmett almost hangs up before he hears her say quickly but firmly, “But I owe you a date. You’re not getting out of being spoiled so easily, Mr. Forrest.”

Emmett blinks.

“Okay.” He says weakly, after a beat.

Elle yawns, and though she seems to be on death’s door, she still manages to sound sweet and peppy, “Sweet dreams, Em.”

She hangs up before he gets the opportunity to say the words back.

Emmett sits down on his bed with his hands in his lap, trying to remember what he used to do when he didn’t have a pretty girl to fret over.

“She called it a  _ date _ .” He whispers to the redbull can, a secret between friends.

Emmett checks the clock again, rationalizing that so long that he’s dressed, he supposes that he can swing by the store and pick up some juice, chocolate, and the latest issue of Vogue.

Because that’s what  _ friends  _ are for, right?

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, please be sure to give me a review!! It really means a lot.
> 
> My tumblr is @moreracquetball. Feel free to say hi!


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